Across the Sea
by tears fall down
Summary: Percy was perfect. Percy was plain. And being plain was perfect. Seeing an old friend made Percy realise he wasn't perfect. O/P slash.


Across the Sea

"_Why are you so far away from me? I need help, and you're way across the sea."_

-Weezer, "Across the Sea"

Life was normal for Percy Weasley, and it was wonderful. Percy loved normality, and Percy loved perfection. And life was perfect. He lived in a nice, clean flat in Muggle London. It was small, but it was just he and Hermes, anyway. There was a small bathroom (painted white, with white tile), an eggshell coloured bedroom with Percy's small bed (with a white comforter his mother had made) and his small, white dresser. Percy's favourite room was his living room, which was also his dining room. He always regarded the colour of the living room a bit wild- it was painted tan. In the room, he had an oak bookshelf, a desk, and a small table in the middle, with two chairs on both sides. Percy's kitchen was connected to the living room by a bar with a few cabinets above. His kitchen was the smallest room in the house, because he never used it. Why bother making food with stoves if you could just make food by magic?

Outside the home, he had a very consistent job at the Ministry. Percy was actually working alongside his father. Which was nice, because at home, Percy never got much attention from his parents. But how could his father ignore him if they worked together? Percy Weasley was a better colleague than son, and he enjoyed seeing his father in a different light. He actually had no clue how he got put into that department; he was originally working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. One day, Mr. Fudge, the Minister of Magic, called him into his office and offered the job. The job was okay. His dad went out on most of the raids, and Percy did most of the paperwork. Living in Muggle London helped the job, being out with the Muggles in their habitat. He learned loads about them and was especially interested in their art.

When he had off from the Ministry, Percy liked going to Art Museums. His favourite artist was Vincent van Gogh. He loved how van Gogh painted the sky. In his flat, Percy had a print of "A Starry Night" he bought from a bookstore. It occurred to him that he could enchant it, and make the stars shine, and the wind blow. But Percy thought the picture was already too perfect, and van Gogh already made it seem like the stars were shining and the wind was blowing. One day Percy was walking around London and decided to go to a show, and see what it was like. He saw a play called "Les Miserables". It was a musical, set in France during their Revolution. He liked Muggle theatre, but tickets to see the shows were too expensive, and he never got to see another one.

The thing that Percy really liked about the Muggle artistic community was music. There were so many different kinds. Much more than they played on the WWN. There was classical music, moving pieces by Beethoven, Mozart and Bach. Loud, music that sounded like it was played by a bunch of angry young men was quite popular in the Muggle world. Percy was most surprised at something called "country" music. He shuddered when thinking about his first time hearing it. One day, a very curious Percy went to a Muggle music store and bought something called a CD. It occurred to him, he had nothing to play the CD with, so he spent an entire week's salary on a CD and a CD player. Figuring out how the CD player worked was another thing. But Percy was clever, and it took him about a half an hour to figure out how it worked. He was ever so elated when he did. The music was wonderful.

The next week, Percy returned to the record store. When he was there, he saw a poster in the window that told him there was going to be a concert. Percy had never been to a concert, and was eager to see it was going to be like. He had grown to be a fan of the band of the CD he bought, and was very excited to purchase a ticket to see them. The concert took place at a Muggle club down the street, and was on Tuesday night.

When Tuesday finally rolled around, Percy ran into his flat and into his bedroom. He opened his dresser. What on Earth did Muggles wear to concerts? He didn't even have any idea what _Wizards_ wore! Maybe he could dress like the people he'd seen on the record covers and the posters in the record store. The only problem was, Percy didn't have any clothes like that. He only had plain clothes, because Percy was plain, Percy liked plain, and he liked being plain. Percy only owned robes, suits, collared shirts, sweaters, a few ties, and one t-shirt. He looked out his window, and it looked cold outside. Checking his watch, he realised he only had a half an hour to be at the club. He threw on a collared shirt, put a navy blue jumper over it, a pair of jean trousers and some brown shoes. Straightening out his clothes in his mirror, then he combed his hair and fixed his glasses. Heading out the door, he thought he didn't look half bad.

When he got to the concert, he looked a bit different than everyone else. Most of the people outside the door wore their hair very messy. Percy hesitated, but put his hands in his newly combed, ginger hair and started to mess it up a bit. Walking in, he turned bright red. It seemed everyone in the place was staring at him. He started to walk in very fast and found a chair next to a table on the balcony.

As soon as he sat down, the band started to play. Percy had been in the club for about ten minutes, but still wasn't quite sure what concert etiquette was. Should he sing along? If he did, what if he sung too loud and everyone heard him? What if the bartender wanted him to order a drink? What if Percy got intoxicated? He had only had butterbeer before, and decided not to look at the bartender behind him. He also noticed that no one was sitting down. Everyone was standing up by the stage. Percy wanted to join them. He pushed his chair out from the table, and stood up. He heard a yelp, and felt his chair hit someone and something cold and wet on his back.

"Hey!" A deep voice yelled, "What's the big idea? Don't you ever see where you're going? Really! You owe me fifteen pounds. Drinks are expensive here!"

A horrified Percy was grabbing napkins off the bar and started wiping the spilt drinks off everything. "Er," he finally looked up. "Terribly sorry. Didn't mean to-" Something looked oddly familiar about that man. His eyes. His brown eyes sparkled, even when he was as mad as he seemed to be. He did know him... "Oliver? I'm sorry, are you Oliver Wood?"

The man looked disgruntled and sighed. "Yes, I'm Oliver Wood. Listen, I'll sign you an autograph _after_ you buy me those drinks back." Percy watched guilt spread across Oliver's handsome face. "Oh, God. Percy? Is that you?"

"Yes," he was still crawling around the floor, wiping up the alcohol. When he was done, he rose to his feet and wiped dust off his pants. "Here," he pulled out some pound notes. "Fifteen pounds. You must forgive me. I've never been to a concert and I-"

"Percy," Oliver gave him back his money. "Keep your money. In fact," he reached for his wallet. "Maybe we could catch up. Here, I'll buy you a drink."

"Um, that's okay," Percy ran to chase Oliver as he headed towards the bar. The bartender sneered at Percy, and he cowered. "But, I would really like to talk." This night was going pretty bad, Percy decided he'd make a git out of himself and would talk to his old roommate.

An hour had past, and Percy realised his life really wasn't all that perfect. Oliver had quite the life. Percy wasn't stupid, and being a Weasley he knew a lot about Quidditch current events, but he really had no clue how successful Oliver was when he made the Puddlemere United team. He started off as a reserve Keeper, but moved up only a year later. Oliver was also living in a very large loft, which happened to be only up the street from Percy. This made Percy realise how many people lived in London, and he didn't know any of his neighbours. Oliver sure had beautiful eyes, he noticed. They did shine a lot, and Percy wondered if Oliver had been eating anything from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"So, how've you been? Where do you live? Where do you work?" Oliver bent over his glass and looked at Percy inattentively.

"Well, I, er. I work at the Ministry, with my father. Same department and everything, they switched my department, and, yeah. He usually does all of the raiding, he enjoys that, so I do a lot of paperwork and such," Percy looked up. He really didn't want Oliver to think he was boring. "I live up the street from you, actually. But, my flat is a lot smaller, probably. It's just me, so I don't need that much room."

The seconds it took for Oliver to reply seemed like years to Percy. Blood started rushing into his ears when Oliver finally did reply. "It sounds wonderful. I'm happy for you. You've always wanted to be in the Ministry."

The band started to play another song. Percy smiled. This was the reason he came to the concert. He was quiet for several seconds.

Oliver broke the silence, "this is my favourite song."

"Are you serious? It's mine too," Percy sighed. To be courteous, they were both very quiet and waited for the song to be over. When it was, Percy sighed again. "That... I just realised what magic was. Magic isn't what we learned at Hogwarts. It isn't what I do at the Ministry. It isn't what you do on the field. _That_ was magic."

Oliver seemed to be staring at Percy like he was insane and needed to be sent to St. Mungo's. "You know," Oliver fiddled with his glass. "I think what you do is magic."

It was then Percy became very confused, because Oliver was acting very strangely. He was fidgeting a lot, and he looked at Percy. Percy felt like Oliver was putting the Cruciatus Curse on him. Percy loved serenity, but this much silence bothered him. Even with the other people in the venue, and the music, it was just too quiet, especially for some brought up at the Burrow. The middle Weasley son opened his mouth to speak, but Oliver's mouth suddenly caught it.

Percy seriously had no clue what was going on. He wasn't thick, he knew Oliver was kissing him, but he didn't know why. He also didn't know why he not only was letting Oliver kiss him, but why he was kissing him back. Could this been another concert thing he had no clue about? Percy opened his eyes and looked around, no one else was kissing. He quickly pulled away.

"I, er, I'm going outside," Percy stammered as he ran into the corridor. Should he go and hide in the bathroom? Turned and looked at the door. All sorts of stickers and writing were stuck on the door, with paint threw upon it. If the door looked that bad, how would it be inside? Not taking a chance, Percy ran up to the man smoking at the door.

"If I go outside, can I come back in?" He held up his ticket. "I have a ticket." The man nodded, and went back to his cigarette. Percy opened the door and went outside. It was raining, Percy clutched his sweater to his chest, and he was freezing. There wasn't a bench for blocks, so he just sat on the sidewalk and curled up in the foetal position.

What was he going to do? Not sure whether there was an issue at hand or not, he seemed uncomfortable. He didn't know why Oliver did what he did, but most surprising was why _he_ did what he done to Oliver. The rain came down harder, as Percy sat on the curb and rationally thought out what had happened. Finally, he got to the kiss.

"Well, I'm not gay." Percy spoke aloud after several minutes of silence. It felt weird. No one heard him, but Percy stopped. "Oh God. Well, it is all coming together, isn't it?" It did explain how come he broke up with Penelope and hadn't been interested in girls ever since. But that was about it. Percy fiddled with his glasses. Well, just because he hadn't cared for having a girlfriend didn't mean he was gay. That meant he was busy.

Percy's mind searched for more evidence. But he just couldn't find any. He sighed, and twitched. He blinked. Did he want to be gay? It wasn't really an issue until he started pestering himself with the thought. Maybe it was just Oliver. He liked being around Oliver, they spent many years living together at Hogwarts, and they were sort of friends. He enjoyed talking to him tonight. And that kiss... Percy did kiss him back. He was also in the midst of confusion, he reminded himself. It did feel right, though, kissing Oliver. Percy patted his rain soaked hair. Oliver's mouth was really warm, and his lips tasted unusual. Not bad unusual, good unusual. Percy wondered that if he kissed Oliver again he might be able to identify the taste...

Percy sighed and got up, he walked inside and reached in his pocket to show the smoking man his ticket, but the man just nodded and Percy entered the venue. He looked frantically for Oliver, but he was nowhere to be found. This couldn't be good; Percy had only been attracted to Oliver for five minutes and already lost his chance with him. It was quite funny to Percy that he had all of these honours at Hogwarts, had a good job and everything, and yet had no social skills whatsoever.

He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes looking for Oliver. Not really paying any attention to where he was going, Percy tripped over his floppy feet and ran into another person at the concert. He prayed that another drink couldn't go falling on him, but a hand came hurdling at him. Percy flinched, until he realised the hand wasn't there to hurt him, but to help him up. Taking the hand, he felt calluses from the man's hand. Being pulled off his feet, he smiled weakly at Oliver, who owned the hand.

"I've been looking for you," Oliver told him, letting go of Percy's thin hand.

"I could say the same to you," silence once again leaked into Percy's world.

"Look," Oliver threw up his hands, and Percy watched them go back to Oliver's side. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what happened. I just... I don't know."

"If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I was nervous so I ran. We probably should've talk-."

"You're really wet," Oliver interrupted him, his hand going up Percy's arm, feeling his damp jumper. "How long were you out there?"

"Probably an hour," Percy looked at Oliver's hand sheepishly. "I was thinking."

"So I have I," Oliver removed his hand. "Could we sit down or anything? I feel like everyone is watching me."

"So the feeling is mutual?" Percy asked, walking with Oliver to their table. Oliver looked at him, mistaking the question.

"Well, I mean, I suppose. I don't exactly know how I feel about you, but if you do..." Oliver answered, waving his hand.

"Er, what are you talking about?" Percy looked at a confused Oliver. "I was talking about how you feel like everyone is looking at you. I feel the same way, that's what I was asking."

"Oh. Well, that does make more sense," he stopped. Looking up at Percy curiously, he asked what he thought he was asked earlier. "How do you feel about me?"

Percy blinked. The band started to play a faster song. "I don't know," he said softly. "I was thinking about it. We're friends, and when I saw you I felt relieved. No clue why. And when you kissed me, I kissed you back. Again, I have no clue why. I suppose I was confused." Percy wanted to ask Oliver what he had been eating, trying to figure out the mystery of the taste, but held back the desire. "It felt right, I think. So, where do you stand on the situation?"

"Don't know. I'd like to know you better. I've always thought you were interesting, although most thought you were just dead boring. Tonight I learned a lot about you I wouldn't guess I'd ever learn. You're a total surprise sometimes. So," he sighed. "I guess I figured I'd kiss you and see if there were any other surprises I could learn."

Percy was very confused. Percy wasn't surprising, he really wasn't. Percy was Percy. No surprise there. Percy liked plain, he was plain, and he liked being plain. He had no clue what Oliver found so surprising about him.

"Seeing you again felt good," Oliver continued. "I don't see many people from school anymore. Our team hasn't been playing other teams from the country lately. I've been in Germany for a week, due to a game that went a bit long. I read about you in the paper the other day. There was an article about you and your father. I ripped it out and taped it on my wall with some Spellotape. It's a really good picture of you, you're hair's a bit messy, you'd probably been working, and you look nice in your robes," Oliver smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I've always been a bit infatuated with you. So,"

"Can I see you again?" Percy asked, rather rushed. After the question was out, his pale face flushed with redness.

Oliver smiled, "Of course. I would love that."

"Could I see you tomorrow?" Percy's blue eyes looked up out of his black glasses.

The smile on Oliver's attractive face faded, "I can't... We made the Quarter Finals. I'm supposed to be in Luxembourg for the next couple of weeks." Percy slumped in his chair.

The two talked for several hours, even when the band had been gone for much longer. Percy was really going to miss Oliver and found him being emotionally attached, like a child who wouldn't let their mother of their sight. It was midnight when Percy looked at his watch. He wished he hadn't announced it, because Oliver shifted in his chair and declared he might be getting ready to leave. When he did leave, Percy thought it might be too awkward to kiss him again, so he hugged him for quite a while.

It had been a week, and an unusual owl flew through Percy's window. Hermes hooted loudly, and Percy thanked the owl by giving it some food and water. Percy took the letter, sat down in his chair and read the letter.

"_Dear Percy,_

_It's really great here, but it'd be much better if you were here. I missed you. Things have been so boring, when I'm not playing. If I didn't love these sods so much I'd tell you how dim they are, but I guess everyone seems that way next to you. We won our game last night against the Toyohashi Tengu, a Japanese team, no thanks to me. Luckily our Seeker caught the snitch in about ten minutes, because I was thinking about you the whole time, quite frankly. Just have four more games, if we do well. I hope we do. Going to the Cup would be a dream. I'm a bit nervous; we're playing the Quafflepunchers (a French team) tomorrow. I wish you were here, I'd probably feel less nervous._

_How're things over there? I'm sure you're working very hard as usual. I've missed you horribly, but I'm sure when I get back to London we can see each other._

_Love,_

_Oliver_,"

Percy sighed. Things hadn't been the way Oliver left them. Life had been perfect for Percy. Life was plain, normal and perfect. Percy's flat had been his world, his sanctuary, and it was perfect to him. Now, the white walls seemed dull to Percy, compared to the world Oliver was living. In fact, Percy had been quite depressed lately. He hadn't been working like he usually did. Feeling stressed, he took a day off from the Ministry. Percy clutched Oliver's letter to his chest, as he walked over to his desk and hung it up. Opening up his desk's drawer, he looked for some parchment, but failed to find any. He grabbed his coat and went outside to buy some.

He noticed it was cold and foggy outside, when he stepped onto the sidewalk. Percy walked quietly down the crowded street, to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley, as always, was crowded. Always been tortured by claustrophobia, Percy hated Diagon Alley and preferred Hogsmeade. But Percy liked to walk rather than Apparate, so always went to Diagon Alley. Buying some parchment and a new quill, he left as quickly as he came and returned back to Muggle London.

Somehow, the Muggle world was more comforting to Percy and he didn't know why. This all changed when, for the first time, Percy became lost. When he didn't see the record store on his trek home, he wondered where he had turned wrong. He looked around him, and saw a music store across the street; he would go in and ask for help. When he crossed the street, he saw the most miraculous thing in the window.

Percy ran up to it, and against his intense fear of germs, he pressed his nose against the window. It was beautiful. He had seen Muggles playing them in the theatre, and heard their music being played to all of the best classical music. Running inside, he forgot why he was there. All he could say was, "How much is that instrument in the window?" he pointed.

The clerk, an older man with white-grey hair and a pair of small glasses, looked at the instrument Percy was pointing at. "Er, the cello? It's two hundred pounds. You interested in buying it?"

Two hundred pounds was a lot, a lot more than Percy had. But he didn't care. He pulled out all the money he had with him. "Could you take this for it, I promise, when I get my money I'll pay you the other hundred pounds. Promise. Here," he ripped off a piece of parchment and took a pen off the counter. "This is my address, you can even send the police after me if I hadn't paid you in the next two weeks."

The old man looked at Percy, and sighed. "No," he looked at Percy's money. "I'll sell it to you for the money you have, if you want it that much. You seem like you're eager." He walked over to the window, hoisted the cello off the stand, and he walked into a back room and put the cello into a case. "Here you are, one cello, that'll be one hundred pounds." Percy gave him his money and thanked him. Halfway through the door, Percy remembered what he came for.

"Er, could you also help me? I seem to be lost." The shopkeeper told Percy where to go, and bid him farewell.

Percy came home and put the parchment away, and pulled out his cello. He looked at the magnificent object, and realised he hadn't the foggiest idea how to play. He had no clue where to begin. Sighing, he leaned the cello against his desk, and sat down to write to Oliver.

The letters between the two continued for weeks. Percy returned to the music store and bought a book on the cello and sheet music. He wasn't half bad, he thought. His long fingers carefully moved around the strings and his arm stroked the bow when he played. Percy wasn't an artist. He was a worker. For the first time in his life, Percy felt like an artist. In less than three weeks, Percy composed his own music. It was very simple, but he hadn't been playing for long. Whenever he played it, tears streamed down his face. He would wipe them away and write to Oliver.

Things were going well with Oliver, as well. His team beat the Quafflepunchers, and the other teams. To both Oliver and Percy's displeasure, Oliver would be staying longer for the Semi-finals. This gave Percy more time to practise the cello, and maybe he could write another song.

The Ministry was hectic. Work had been piling on Percy's desk, and he just didn't feel like doing it. His father asked if Percy was ill, and Percy didn't doubt it. For some strange reason, Percy secretly wanted to quit the Ministry. It was getting too boring. He wanted to be a cellist. Wouldn't that be the pair? A Quidditch player and cellist, what a funny combination. Percy tore his thoughts away from Oliver. He would always have to do so when he was trying to get back to work. As much as he now loathed his job, he needed it. Percy needed money and being a cellist with one month of practise just wasn't going to pay the bills.

When Percy arrived home one day, he found a note from Oliver lying on his desk. He read it quickly; there wasn't much to read. Puddlemere lost their match against the Vultures and Oliver would be coming home. As happy as Percy was, he was sure Oliver was very disappointed.

There was a soft knock on his door, Percy put the note down and walked towards it. Opening the door, Percy saw a very tall, handsome man he hadn't seen in a while. Oliver's brown eyes were shining and he wore a large smile on his face. He dropped a small piece of paper with Percy's address on the ground.

"Percy," he breathed. He took Percy in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I've missed you." He looked a Percy, he really had changed, and Percy's red hair was a complete mess. His glasses were scratched, and his robe looked like it needed to be ironed. Oliver hesitated to tell Percy that he looked great. Looking at Percy, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Percy replied. "I just missed you so much. Look, look," he walked over to his cello and sat down. "I bought this after you left." He played a few scales and dropped the bow on his chair.

"You're wonderful," Oliver smiled. He didn't want to think it, but he obviously had a lot of impact on Percy's life. Percy had changed a lot since he left. "But are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Percy nodded. He cleaned off his glasses, "why do you keep asking me that?"

Oliver sighed. "No reason," he took Percy's bony hand and started to rub it. "How're things?"

"Different," Percy transfigured his chair into a small couch and he sat down.

"Why the cello?" Oliver asked, looking at the large instrument across the room.

"Search me, I saw it, and I just wanted it for some reason," Percy fiddled with his glasses when he felt Oliver put his arm around him. "To tell you the truth, it's because of you. My life was totally perfect until I saw you again," A look of guilt spread across Oliver's boyish face, this made Percy feel horrible. "No, no. It's not like that," he moved his hand against Oliver's jaw line. "You made me realise my life was totally boring. Look around. This room is painted tan. _Tan_."

"So?" Oliver looked at Percy. "Tan is a nice colour."

"But it's boring," Percy played with his glasses.

"No, it's not," Oliver leaned closer to Percy.

"Well, I'm boring."

"You most certainly are not," Oliver held Percy tighter in his arms. "If you were boring, would I be writing you letters everyday? Would I have missed four Quaffles because I was too busy thinking about you?" He laughed, "Would I have wasted a twenty pound concert ticket to talk to you?"

Percy glanced at the cello. "Can I play you a song I wrote for you?" Oliver nodded, and Percy crossed the room, he sat down and started to play. The attractive man leaned in closer behind him, and watched his arm move the bow across the strings. Small tears started to stream out of his glasses and down Percy's pale face. When he was finished, Oliver's fingers wiped the tears off his face.

"Don't cry," Oliver whispered.

"I can't help it," Percy told him. Oliver put his arm back around Percy's shoulder. The two caught up on what was going on for several hours. Percy made Oliver dinner, and the two ate and talked some more.

When it was getting very late, Oliver got up and announced he would be living. Percy got up, and showed him out. Oliver grabbed his cloak off Percy's coat rack and turned to Percy. He softly kissed him, and said goodbye. Percy waved and shut the door. He nodded to himself and thought, _Mint and Pineapple_.


End file.
